


In Another World Love, We Could Have Had It All

by TheSquiglet



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, I am trash and cliche!, M/M, This is a complete work, that's right folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 12:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSquiglet/pseuds/TheSquiglet
Summary: When is Curt is 8 years old, he dreams of a ribbon and a strange man.





	In Another World Love, We Could Have Had It All

Curt was 8 years old when his world-view changed for the first time. He thought his mum said hers changed when she watched her son watch the other boys and cried knowing there would never be any hope for him, she even decided to ignore all the signs instead and force her better ideals forward. The world would never allow her poor baby peace otherwise. Curt had just thought his mum acted a little weird...which to him was always.

 

For the most part whenever the young boy dreamt – which his mum ignored talking about more often not if anything - it was of taking down bad people and having the attention of all the people he wanted to have from it on him. In fact...

 

It was as simple as dreaming. Curt had never really been a restful sleeper, more often turning back and forth, balling his blankets up and chucking them off or on him but for this one..he stayed as still as the dead.

 

A man stood in the middle of an unfocused background, the kind where only a faint outline could be seen, the unfiltered and unclaimed emotions bursting forward clouding what else was being brought forward and exiting just as quick as they'd entered. The movement frightened and peaked the young child's growing curiosity and looked down as a way of avoiding anything that might hurt his eyes – after all they were hurting his brain so why not those as well – only to see something poking out from his chest.

 

It had been a very red ribbon which deepened it's colour as it flowed out towards the empty nothingness quicker until it was halfway out turning rough and to a slower pace continuing the weird forceful pulse that kept going as it all spilled out. The ribbon finally ended just as Curt reached out to touch it. The material felt harsh, brittle and demanding as it slipped away from his grip. The reddest ribbon he had ever seen then vanished completely, and the faint man that hadn't left from the corner went with it.

 

Curt woke up screaming. 

 

 

 

                                                   

“Mommy? Did you ever have weird dreams, not nightmares”

 

“What kind of weird dreams baby?”

 

The pair had been sitting down at the table, his mum preparing their evening meal. His mum's brow then furrowed attempting to hide her worry. She had a feeling what dream he might be questioning and didn't want to let hear it, didn't want to know. If only the future had been closer to save all of them.

 

“I saw a ribbon in my dream and it hurt me but then tried to protect me I think, I'm not too sure because there was a man in the corner watching over me as well throughout it! I couldn't make out his features, he seemed upset and lonely! His eyes were really but then they shuttered away. Like it didn't want to see me after all, ashamed or something. I thought all he needed was a hug or something but I couldn't get to him because of the ribbon protecting me. At the end I felt happy I think? There was something that scared me when I woke up though. Maybe it was all of that together!” Curt's features blossomed into more confusion.

“Well, it was just a dream, wasn't it baby? Nothing else will happen come of it, I'm sure. Now, help me wash these please Curtis”

 

That was the last discussion he and his mother ever heard about the dream or red ribbons. Curt was 8 years old when he dreamed of his soul mate. It'd be a couple more years however til Curt figured out what the dream represented, and until he'd physically meet him.

 

 

 

 

At the age of twenty Curt had led himself towards training courses (not the boring ones though, Curt had no absolutely no desire to just sit in a room, note things down and remain complacent) and got on a very particular one. One he had been looking for since he was very young. Curt had never felt so proud of himself.

 

Curt Mega – the would be awesome spy.

 

It with little grace and over-enthusiasm that led to him being perfect out in the field, and absolutely terrible behind a desk.

 

That seemed to stir something else within him but his team mates weren't exactly thrilled to be working with someone preferring one over the other, which had been a shame seeing as you were meant to work together on the outside but after being asked about his ribbon and answering including every single detail he'd told his mum, they'd started to ignore him and most of his messages,and so he'd stopped as well.

 

Instead the man focused on building his set as a spy in other areas, including looking at all the awesome gadgets developing and building his own personal self up along the way. He ignored the stares and the whispers whenever a new trainee appeared. He may not have been able to understand his dream or what it determined but he knew how people worked. If there was something people were afraid of or didn't want to work to understand it then they'd always be spiteful and afraid. He couldn't do anything but beam brightly as he worked on passing his tests. Maybe the world wasn't ready for people like him, this small ribbon, man appearing dream thing deserved to be bottled up anyways and not spoken about again. The world just wasn't ready.

 

He was the top of his class.

 

 

 

“So you must be the new kid they've pushed onto me, I'm hoping for great things from you. If you fail to meet my expectations, I will have you ground up into ash, pour it into my coffee and drink it so let's hope that doesn't happen. I'm sure you are aware that you came top of the class, I am expecting great things from you Mega. So don't fucking fail me” - Curt's new boss was...scary. Okay so he may have been a little fresh faced but whatever he'd expected from finishing his course three months ago, this wasn't it.

 

Cynthia Houston happened to be the toughest and highest rating amongst them all – hell it was why he'd applied, he hadn't ever really expected such an enthusiastic response – but she was also loud, bossy, and in constant control to add to the scariness. His lasting thought being one of a flashing red light in his brain saying not to ever cross her if he wanted to live to see his next week. Despite all of this he was ready to get stuck in. He had been preparing for this for far too long, he was so ready to be an agent. Ready to spy.

 

And maybe if one day she decided to take interest in his life one day, he might clue her in, but there would never be any mention of a red ribbon, or of Curt's sadness that he'd maybe never figure the dream out.

 

 

 

Operation fifty had a more mature yet world weary man fly around a room being trapped and tossed around by arms dealers as if he was nothing more than a paperweight, his training hadn't ever prepared him for this!He couldn't even reach his gun right now and he had to fight with his knees to get himself tossed back onto the ground below, and finally set his gun free to shoot at his assailant only to notice they'd scarpered. God damn it!

 

Ever since joining Cynthia's agency, there'd been all kinds of injuries to his body; broken arms, broken legs and on one insane occasion ,which he wished he could forget, a sharp razor graze the top of his head. He'd also managed to be shot in the arm tackling someone down and ignoring the one with an actual gun in his hand.

 

He'd gotten used to it by operation thirty two. Life as a spy could be pretty hard but this was exactly (minus those injuries) what he had been dreaming of ever since he was a little boy. He got to live out his dream kicking down bad guys (fucking..cool!) and earn large amounts of money for it, he didn't even break a sweat most days he was so good! Then operation fifty happened. Fucking operation fifty. God, if Curt could have changed it, he would have.

 

 The day he met Owen Carvour.

 

Looking back on it a few days afterwards Curt understand Cynthia's worried frown, and his unmitigated fear within those walls because it had all happened so quickly; A shot had rung out clicking onto a metal bar, Curt himself crouching down to avoid who or whatever it was, and a man appearing in front of him as if finding his way out of the shadows facing him, his own gun raised at him gripping it tightly as a protective measure.

 

For all of five minutes they stood there staring each other down, gaze transfixed. For some reason, neither of them said nothing, just quietly assessing. Until the man in front of him started speaking. With a clipped British accent. Rooting Curt to the spot even further.

 

“And what exactly are you? Are you with Cynthia's agency? I'd hate to have to kill anyone in the immediate know and you look as green as they come, I'm taking it you haven't been working for as long as I have?”

 

“I'm with the American Secret Service”

 

“Man of few words then? I take it Cynthia being the American herself and constantly a fan of yours truly, you are with her then? I believe I am quite stunned about your muteness you know, they say Americans have a reputation for talking your ears yet here we are. What say we take this brute down together now I know you're someone you can be trusted and we then catch a drink together? You could fill me in with all kinds of stuff in your previous life? The life before the spy urge took over I mean?”

 

“How do I know I can trust you? Just because you know someone with the same name as my boss doesn't mean you really do”

 

“Ooh I like you Agent. You're feisty, my parents always said I liked those kinds, although I fear she was talking about the women I liked and because I know something you don't”

 

“Which is?”

 

“I'll tell you if you work with me, you really don't understand a single thing do you?”

 

“Why not just tell me now?”

 

“Now now, now, don't be such a brute about this! And anyways why wouldn't you want to work with someone so happy with his finds? Besides I don't have all day for you to figure it properly out. Help me locate the weapons and then we can talk to Cynthia about potential team up's. I've been looking for a partner for ages and it looks as if I've finally met my match, you're certainly easy on the eyes at least. And if we are, then I don't suppose it's fair that I keep calling you agent, so what is your name?”

 

“Fine. Curt. Mega.”

 

“Owen Carvour. Delighted I'm sure love. Now c'mon then, no time to waste”

 

Curt hoped he didn't notice the blush forming over his cheeks at the now named British spy _-Owen -_ his brain supplied and nodded and went to shake his hand. Could be interesting, and if Owen wasn't who he turned out to be, he could just shoot him...which he didn't end up doing as halfway through, the pair had been acting like partners for years, Owen scoping the area out first, Curt backing him and them taking each of their people held out in one swift go.

 

So maybe he wasn't as wary of him as first thought. Even as they disposed of the bodies, he found himself musing over what had just happened over the past two hours and on their way to the base, for all his witty and chivalrous charm actually seemed to be a closed off emotional mess with a smirk two feet wide at all the attention he got from the women (and carefully concealed faces of the men) they had arrived at Cynthia's door.

 

“Miss Houston, delightful to see you again as I'm sure you would be, have some information for you, and the tricky matter of how single and lost I've been without a working partner, I believe I found the perfect fit so you can take me off your list now. Pleasure as always”

 

Cynthia Houston smirked then gave a very rare genuine smile towards the British man deciding himself to rake over the languid body lying on the chair. He stopped before he went down past his chest, who knew who could be watching. Even as she nodded at Curt and Owen leaving the office, he could feel the brush of a hand and a cheeky smile.

 

Maybe that had been the starting point. Whatever Owen was projecting, it seemed to be working. And Curt was falling each time they were sent out into the field to work together. When he started feeling more than he wanted to and Owen seemed to reciprocate more than he looked like he had intended, Curt hadn't known whether to laugh or cry.

 

So when what happened, happened on their tenth operation together, he did both.

 

 

 

The day for the pair had been fairly routine, fill out some paperwork, report to the scariness that was his boss, got the call to go track down a rogue and turned maniacal spy intent on kidnapping other spies and then right back to the 'let's not go near her for a couple of days' furious face of his higher up.

 

Owen then led the way out of the room sinking back for a celebratory handshake which was given freely and into Curt's mother's safe house. Owen laid himself on the couch and Curt knocking his feet of it sitting down on the other end of it. Owen himself had been falling asleep having been finally comfortable and feeling safe enough in the presence of the other man around him.

 

“You never told me” - Owen cracked an eye open to show he was listening

 

“Told you what Mega? I tell people lots of things, most of them not true”

 

“On our..first job together, you told me something. You said you knew something I didn't”

 

“Did I really? Well that's your own fault Curt, always having to catch up with the rest of us” Giving a smile to show he was gently mocking and not being insulted.

 

“Don't bullshit me Owen. What was it? I thought we told each other everything these days?”

 

“We've only been partnered together for eight months Curt, don't get yourself in a twist...very well. A group has apparently been forming in secret although I'll admit to not having all the details. No mention of where or when or even who is leading it. The name starts with a C and nothing else”

 

“And the significance of that is?”

 

“Oh, there is none. It's something I made up so I could get a pretty feisty American with a drinking and attitude problem to work with me. You can't say you're mad at me for it, after all it led us to here and I get to stare at your very nice shaped face all day. A real win-win I'd say”

 

Before Curt could ask if that really was the truth, the man had leaned further upwards and craned his finger to allow Curt forward and kiss him gently, Curt chasing after him like always these days and smiling.

 

So it was only really fair that in that blissful moment the ribbon so heavily encased for the many years past decided to make it's second appearance All the emotions blaring into one, the pressure making it harder to breathe and all of it so tight until the flayed ribbon was seen by the pair of them, Owen's even deeper non flayed ribbon bursting forward intertwining with his.

 

Then just like last time, they disappeared quicker than they'd made them all known, looking up to see the tears in Owen's eyes and the fear in Curt's. God he hated that thing and not knowing what it meant.

 

“I never thought I'd get mine”

 

“Your what, what the hell happened, that hasn't happened besides one dream when I was a kid, god what the hell was that Owen?”

 

“When two ribbons collide, intertwine then poof! It means we're destined to be together, only the two people can tell though..the universe has plans for the pair of us and one is for us to be soulmates. We were meant to meet and be together in all kinds of ways. Our favourite secret, shall we agree?

 

Both their grins widened

 

 

 

Curt had always wondered why he'd never decided to ask more about the ribbon or the big significance surrounding it but now...he'd understood why the people he'd been so happy to tell them about it had shrunk back in fear and disgust. He was forever doomed to hide but maybe..with Owen he didn't have to. As of right now, he didn't really mind. Not since he had found someone the universe had said he was destined to be with, everyone else could suck it.

 

The man after having spent so much company in his presence himself had been falling harder despite everything else signalling him to stick with him. Owen for all his cheekiness was someone he hadn't actually considered getting with until he did, he couldn't have imagined falling for anyone else if he really thought back to it. He was at the mercy of it all. Owen Carvour was resourceful and chivalrous. Sarcastic but not to the point of unkindness, professional and ready to fight anything or anyone who dared to get in his way...the way he bit his lip in nervousness...how he held Curt back from the firing line or when he felt sad and worried after phone calls to his mother.

 

Among other things.

 

Yes Curt was happy with his work and life partner, even if he wanted to shout at the world about how awesome this was daily.

 

So of course something had to happen to rock the boat, so to speak.

 

What Curt hadn't expected was for that 'happening' to be something so heartbreaking and so sickening to his core that he would involve fairly successful mission.

 

The fact it was partially his fault didn't lessen the shock or erase any of the hurt, or the guilt that would always follow him one step behind forever as he bolted out the room.

 

Watching Owen slip up...fall to the ground as he attempted to reach out for something or someone to help grab his hand and bring him back up,..to be pulled back up so he could spend his time with his new found love...none of it had been enough.

 

After he'd run far, far away from the building, visions of Owen's body flying through his brain constantly he felt like he had in his infancy, scared and unsure. Owen was gone so why was he feeling what he had back then? He had to think of something else, _anything_ else!

 

He felt the string pull. Hard. Looking down once again, he saw the ribbon resurface, come out to the middle like last time and if someone had taken a pair of scissors to it, cut that the part where Owen's would have met his, the edges starting to fray from there, none of it stitching back up together all until it disappeared.

 

That was it then, Owen was dead. And nothing was going to ever bring him back.

 

 

 

Four years later flew past him as he went back to his lone world status. Curt paid no attention to Cynthia's angry rants as he left the agency just to be able to grieve properly, and similarly when he'd heard a group beginning with the letter C when she welcomed him back. Even if his even scarier boss decided it would with a vaguely similar threat.

 

If anyone looked or sounded like Owen, he ignored them. The only way he could to get his words out of his head or the picture of his heart breaking constantly was to start finding the new person bringing hate into an already cruel world. The deadliest man alive. Especially alongside that weird Russian girl who'd managed to slip by him so carefully, she had seemed so young, far too young to be entering this life attempting to make herself look bigger, more mature as she disarmed him, always on lookout. Afraid for herself. There was a story there, he could feel it,e he recognised her fear, didn't want to acknowledge it...not in the way he hadn't acknowledged his guilt for the past two months. He had to find a way to forgive himself for everything he never said or did.

 

Before his brain could catch up to him he had also thought if the Russian had a ribbon like his, or if hers was still being searched for. The only way to find out any of this, all of this was to get back to Barb, get some really sweet gadgets and set off for the casino.

 

If he stopped for a drink or two along the way all the while pretending to speak to Owen like he was right next to him still existing, well then that was no-one else's business but his. God Curt wished for him back every day, the dull thud in his chest calling out for something that wasn't there. Wished there'd at least been a body for him to drag back to find and bring back, say a proper goodbye or for a ribbon to reappear sometimes, anything to gain a love lost back, the alcohol blinding his vision and dulling more of his senses as best it could.

 

 

 

Okay, okay so he'd only messed up this mission slightly – which he knew was a lot less than last time and he wished that everyone could get off of his back, okay?! - and he didn't want to think of the redhead who had helped these two crazy assholes tie him up in a chair and left him to go stand beside that murderer or the other fact that he was being monologues at. Jesus who did this crackpot even think he was? Not to mention Baron Von Ass.

 

If only Owen had been here, at least he'd have cursed or mocked Curt. Right now he felt the loss even stronger than he had on setting out to the casino. Instead here was a murderer whose body count was going steadily up (and his eyes that kept skimming over to his and glaring into him as if Curt being here about to die by his hands was the most delicious thing he could have ever imagined), an idiot clearly with too much control and a puppet in his hands and a girl still half forlorn acting as if none of this horrified her at all. The spy's life right now if he could say anything about it..was that it sucked.

 

 

 

Being tortured was definitely in his top 3 for most painful and never entering into a situation like this again. He hadn't even noticed his bonds being thrown off of him at first either or felt the bullet which coursed through him.

 

 

 

Racing to the peace gala with a half fixed bullet wound thanks to Barb he wondered where the Russian had got to, she had run away so fast, slipping back into those empty shadows, he had to find Cynthia and protect the crowd and hide the prince! Someone had to do their job round here! He needed Owen, Owen would have known how to be braver than he was and help more than he had, he needed Cynthia to tell to him what to do right now. Then someone had shot the prince and his whole body went into the flight response watching it all unfold in the worst of all the ways it could have. And the body falling onto the floor had then shut off anything he had been feeling, someone else he had failed.

 

Tatiana had reappeared saving the man's skin once more while he tried to not let the tears fall and his body go rigid as she attempted to ask for a safe house location. They limped away from the peace gala together, her holding him up as best she could having only done the barest of patch-ups. Maybe he could ask Tatiana along the way if they could stop for a drink to help soothe the scene, he wondered whether this was another soulmate thing or if it was just Curt's incompetence that everywhere he went you saw them. Or that you were never allowed to forget them and the ribbon soaring out as if trying to find it's other half during those nights were everything was heightened.

 

Okay, so they'd take the quickest route to his mother's safe house they would go then. He couldn't do anything without screwing it all up.

 

 

 

 

Here in his mother's house, he never thought he'd be able to talk about Owen so openly, or calmly. He supposed it was because in some weird form she'd lost too. He couldn't bring himself to think about her suffering and comparing it to his, he may have lost one important person to him but Tatiana, she'd lost everyone. Couldn't imagine the battles she must have and still be going through to keep her family safe, all those images swimming round of people she'd come across and left. How could he say anything to what she'd given as truth. Tatiana had looked lost because she was. She was hardened yet protective of those those she held close. And now for some reason Curt was one of them.

 

He'd already let one person he'd cared for down, he wouldn't let there be another.

 

 

 

 

Running wasn't Curt's favourite thing but seeing as they only a limited number of hours and Tati seemed to be some kind of expert at those he wasn't, they managed to get there in record time, so much so he was finding it hard to come to a complete standstill almost falling over Barb and the Informant with them wearing the most ridiculous outfit. He righted himself quickly as Tatiana made her greetings and as he walked them over to the spare table in the room, the informant grabbing the drinks from behind the bar. A notion the spy had been all to happy to share.

 

And as he looked round at their various states of drunkenness readying for tomorrow a realisation hit him quite suddenly. This wasn't a group he had ever imagined teaming up with but it _was_ a team, bigger and better having only built in the past couple of days or so. They'd all been helping him in different ways and for different periods since the start of the case and his still grieving heart of Owen.

 

Right now with these people that loss felt like an ember and not the burning flame that consumed him more often than not these days.

 

Then in those walls worrying about becoming rogue, going up to face the deadliest man, the expectations being built on him each passing day, he had enough. Maybe it was the drunkenness clouding his every thought or the fact he realised he was toppling off of his chair so easily but he decided right then to make a promise to himself. He could either mourn the loss of his soulmate, drown his sorrows and never see the sun through the dark again just like four years ago, or he could start what he had wanted to too since seeing that fall which had set this whole ball rolling, and what had plagued his mind constantly – he could arrest the arms dealers involved and then go in search for his body – but it meant he could also maybe, just once get rid of those terrible dreams where the ribbon sometimes appeared, still half cut but finally growing just that bit further and growing redder – and he'd solidified all this by the raging headache he'd gain in the morning.

 

If he couldn't then, when would he?

 

 

 

The informant they'd been paired with woke them all up further by standing and clattering all the empty beer bottles surrounding them on the floor, and then promptly falling over them. Tatiana had growled at being woken so quickly but replaced it with a frown in her friend's direction. He looked so out of it. She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, him smiling down at her as if they did this thing having been friends for years instead of a few days.

 

“We need to start making a move if we want to catch this guy. Before this all blows up in our aces, things usually tend to do around me, I just wanted to say...I appreciate you. I don't think I ever say it to the people enough, never have. It wasn't until Owen died that I thought to try and erase that part of me. Thank you. For everything. Last time I was this close to someone was him, we all know how that all happened, and after this I'll help you in any way I can”

 

“Curt?” Curt looked her back in the eye again after having looked away making non-committal noises. Tatiana huffed until the man shrugged as a way of answering.

 

“Is there nothing else you were willing to tell me about Owen”

 

“I only....Tatiana, how am I meant to trust anyone with this? I told my parents and him but I never understood the whole thing, there was never anything like a sign or a course! All I have known, all I ever have known is there was a ribbon in a dream, that burst out into a weird space when I first met once meaning that meant we were soulmates, and I....Maybe we weren't meant to happen”

 

Tatiana lifted her hand from his shoulder up to his cheek stroking it gently as her heart clenched and hurted all over for her new friend. This time of life, if anyone had ever found out, would not treat them kindly, and she imagined must have been an extra strain on their courtship. She hadn't been surprised to learn his parents never told him the truths of their ribbons and soulmates like people usually would and when he spoke next, she still tensed.

 

“I keep seeing it y'know, the ribbon. Everyday, today even, in my dreams it gets brighter. But since Owen's fall, it's been shredded, faded even and I guess it shows up to remind me of everything I did wrong. Nothing I don't know already. My own brandished form of karma”

 

Anything Tatiana had been about to say had been stripped short. Clamped her mouth shut. He didn't know so she couldn't let him know. Not right now. Instead she took her hand back and patted his shoulder properly this time, a bit less awkward then when she'd done it to Barb earlier before taking a step back and holstered her gun. Curt himself gave her a questioning look but let it drop. He trusted her. He could ask why she'd looked so shocked yet saddened after all this. Right now...

 

They had a job to do.

 

 

 

Curt stood in fear, shock and confusion. He hadn't expected this. Anything but this. Rooted to the spot once again. Watching the deadliest man alive weave tales. Watching him pull his mask off. Curt almost refused to believe what he was witnessing, didn't want to confront it. He couldn't.

 

Owen wasn't like this, he never was. He had never been, had he? His tone was sitting smooth until the venom cut through when faced with him.

 

Owen had died. He had watched him fall! _But he'd never gone back to check._

 

Why was Owen doing this?! Why was he causing pain, immediate suffering, murdering the lives of innocent people?

 

His ex kept talking as if Curt never spoke, shot the informant and told Tatiana to be wary of someone once protected and left them. Then the realisation dawned on him.

 

Owen was murdering because of Curt, slaughtering and hurting because he wanted others to feel his rage and upset in the way had from Curt – the one who should never have deserted him in the first place – he felt sick to his core.

 

The Brit had been planning Chimera for years, with those new people, just to seek (in Owen's own mind) justice.

 

The ribbon always so concealed in the day time besides the first meeting now once again made it's way out of his chest and doing it's usual. The fabric kept inching forward, growing larger again until it reached Owen's own and twisting together in the middle, tangled just like their relationship, especially when Owen's now attempted to resist it. A tense minute passed when both of their ribbons dropped to the ground becoming flakier as it did so, every second it got somehow worse to look at it.

 

How could Curt still love someone who had once been so tender, turn so harsh?

 

He barely had time to register Tati's voice telling him to go after him or how her face rose in calm surprise and quiet affection at being called 'partner'

 

Maybe this time he'd get answers. Only one way to find out and that was to get to the man before anyone would.

 

Even as he gave chase, his heart kept constricting trying to come up with excuses for it still being a clone of Owen or something, his logical side telling him what he knew and had seen already and telling himself to suck it up, believe it and look at the destruction he'd left behind. He'd heard the words, and now instead of following the love of his life on their way on a mission together, he was following lies, betrayal and a potential death sentence by his hands.

 

He prayed his team could destroy the compound, that Barb was safe in another safe place, that his new partner would be able to work her way back to her family leading her away from this life. They'd had enough pain in their young years, the spy was not prepared to add to it.

 

He caught up quicker than anticipated. If there was a way to forget all this, to be able to go back to two hours ago, he would have taken it. He'd rather have Owen dead than vengeful right now. Or..he could convince him to give up the technology, his counterparts and come back to him. That meant talking. Curt didn't think he was prepared for that.

 

 

 

Owen was facing him. The man he thought had been dead for so long, who thought would never see him again, was here now. Owen was monologuing.  

 

Owen was pressing all his buttons, seeing him act like this, treating Curt like he was nothing more than dirt he could flick off his shoe.

 

Even attempting to reason with him wasn't going the way he had wanted to. This man wasn't the man he'd once come to like and love. He was all charm, no depth. Fire not once cooling to take stock, words holding barely any meaning.

 

There was right and wrong in the seasoned agent's book and Owen had crossed it so over that he didn't think if either of them made it out of here in one piece, that they'd ever go back to before...not even if Owen suddenly gained his conscience back as fast as he lost it.

 

After this, Curt wouldn't allow himself to be led by his past mistakes or past person any longer. Not this was the result. Why did his heart get to be broken twice?

 

That stupid heart seemed to ignore everything his brain had been thinking for a last ditch attempt to get Owen to at least turn himself in, go back to what he'd been doing before. Go back to him. And then the asshole had to yell the way he yelled at the truly troublesome and guilty people they'd shot or arrested when they'd worked together. When things were better.

 

Curt had always been deemed small – by his parents, the first team he'd helped with, Cynthia at first – but then Owen had appeared, he'd just been questioning, worming his way into his life gently. Now..well now he felt like a child scared for doing something wrong again.

 

Owen wasn't listening, too busy preening his new cool status over him, his ego making the room shrink as well. This was one of the worst situations he was finding himself in and he couldn't make it better. And hang on wait, what did he just say? No there couldn't be, Owen was wrong, there had only been one.

 

“There's more?” The man felt his own voice quake, so unsure about everything going on, oh go..Tatiana! Her family (and her) would still be on the threat of uncertainty, Tati would never be able to leave her past behind.

 

Barb! What about her? She'd worked so hard to keep this under wraps, he may not have appreciated her or made valiant attempts to hide once or twice but if he got them all out of this, he would. Even if they all never worked together again after this, at least he knew they'd be safe, away from the ruthlessness of Chimera.

 

He let the tears that had been building leave him. He glared up at his partner...ex partner and climbed up a step as Owen's eyes dared him to do his worst, their voices between them getting louder.

 

“That secret died the night you left me for dead...I've got to dismantle everything you single handly ever believed in!”

 

That much to Curt by now had been obvious. Even as he spoke about sharing the same beliefs once, he felt nothing but a cold chill.

Maybe...maybe on that fateful night the real Owen (the one Curt had really loved) had died. All that was left was a cheap imitation, a man who thought he wanted more than he got. After that, thinking all of his best memories, his new team and everything he knew of the Owen before, it had been easy to raise his gun.

 

Without even realising, he had noticed a shift. A shift in him and within the scene set. He'd been mourning for four years guilty and distraught while the other did everything to force those ideals harder. Without knowing, Curt had started getting over him.

 

Curt protected others, that was him as a spy, and as a person, letting Owen, the deadliest asshole, live would not be in anyone's best interests. Owen back out loose in the world seemed like the biggest no-go for all of them, and Owen despite to all underneath the bravado seemed exhausted. Tired of living almost. Like maybe he should have died that night.

 

Curt could relate to the living part. After all he'd been living that life for so many years until two hours ago, only he had been drinking his sorrows not contract killing them. Soulmates or not, Curt pulled the gun closer. If this had been part of their love, it deserved to die alongside the person now on the ground, gun clip sliding out of his hand.

 

This time he'd bring a body back.

 

 

 

That night, when Curt dreamed, it was of a softer push, still harsh though as the ribbon appeared in the blackness, it's eye soaring red colour to a deepening black; Curt reaching out to touch it in his dream and coming up successful. When he managed to touch it, the blackened ribbon crumbled slowly then disappeared all too quickly. A familiar man tried to pick up the pieces and stitch them together as it crumbled even further in his hands, the voice apologising over and over. Curt ignoring it. The man still standing still, the ribbon finally leaving both their souls completely, and the man screaming, kicking, clutching for something to hold onto went with it. Only the darkness remained.

 

 

 

Aged 30, only after two years of having found his soul mate, was now burying him. Everything since those 3 months when he'd shot Owen bubbled back up to the surface. He'd only been a few years older than Curt himself, and he'd always be that age.

 

He blinked forcing himself away from Owen's coffin relieved and saddened to find there was only the barest of remorse at how he'd handled the situation.

 

Curt only felt relief that for once, he did the right and kindest thing. For the both of them. If he'd been given a machine to go back, fix things, he didn't think he would. They'd both made their choices.

 

He wished he could think of something to say before he left his grave side knowing he may not ever really return.

 

“To be honest, I don't want to, I don't want to be here Owen. I didn't realise how much of a bastard you were to me even before becoming your alter ego. I guess I thought being in love with someone meant you took on their worries and fears, yet you took on none of mine. God now moronic of me is it that I still was in love with you right up until you manifested into people's worst nightmares? I missed you, when I thought you were part of us, but not any more. I'm sorry Owen. But I can't. I have to...I have to move on. If I don't move on now, I most likely never will. I'm not going to apologise or believe who you were,I'm just going to forget. I'll remember our first meeting, and our ribbons but nothing else. If I see anything less, I'll not see the ground any more. I promise I'll always pass one of the chargers to you.....love.

 

I'm sorry but goodbye Owen”

 

Curt laid the flower he'd brought along with him down and traced Owen's name there then started walking away from the scene he was creating. Besides if he remembered, he had to stop off somewhere, grab two coffee's and a passport or two from his mum. He didn't want to keep her waiting. Maybe he had an apology to make first to one gadget scientist. Anything to make sure he would learn from Owen's bile and mistakes. Yeah, maybe that first.

 

 

 

 

It had been as simple as dreaming.

 

Only this time the man in question didn't see another man in it. He hadn't expected to. He hadn't even expected to be dreaming about you, too many nightmares at the hand of Owen or to blackness. As of right now, he thought maybe he should wake but something else told him to stay.

 

His subconscious kept him in that limbo for far more than he had been willing to, one of his hands clenching into a fist both in and out of his dreamlike state. Growing impatient with every passing moment, Curt had been about to exit ignoring whatever had been calling out to him when it arrived.

 

That couldn't be though? That shouldn't be here? Surely?

 

A lighter shade billowed out freely and happily, and weirdly unrelenting.

 

All Curt wanted to do was step back and exit whatever was being played on him but the ribbon kept coming fast, kept going until the whole fabric had got to it's very end.

 

The man hadn't remembered this feeling though. The feeling of calm, peace...and some acceptance? He hadn't had that in these dreams before? The thread wasn't frayed at the edges either. God what the hell was this?!

 

When Curt woke up this time, he was confused....but light. Lighter than he'd ever felt before, even as a young child.

 

 

Curt smiled.

 


End file.
